Know That I'm Still Here
by Twinchester Angel
Summary: Established Wincestuous Relationship Immediately following 2-04 and the boys' side-of-the-road heart-to-heart. Dean thinks about the last few months, gets angsty and maybe a little clingy. He and Sam are stuck in the Impala. In a rainstorm.


**Summary:** Set in Season 2. A few hours after 2-04 _Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things _and the boys' side-of-the-road heart-to-heart. Dean thinks back on the last few months, gets angsty and maybe a little clingy, and he and Sam are stuck in the Impala. In a rainstorm.

**Warnings:** Major Schmoop alert. In fact, my beta actually said the schmoop police will have a warrant out for me with this one. Also, angst. Angst in Dean's head, so it's pretty angsty. It's schmangst. Oh yeah, and Wincest, of course. Not as graphic as my usual, but it's definitely there. Established relationship.

**Word Count:** 5,500

**Characters:** Sam/Dean

**Rating:** NC-17

**Author's Note:** This is something I wrote for my beloved Paperstorm. It was her birthday exactly one month ago today and I'm late. *giggle* I'm ALWAYS late. I love you, my dear. I tried to write a strictly "cuddle-fic" but what can I say? They're stuck in the dark, in the rain, in the Impala. What's a fangirl like me supposed to do? I do, however, hope there is enough schmoop in here for ya. I know how much you LOVE the schmoop. Thank you so much for being my betrothed, showering me with unending Sam/Dean stories, and being so damn inspirational to me that I couldn't stop writing this stuff, even if I wanted to. *blows you kisses*

**Author's Note #2:** Title is taken from Notbroken by Goo Goo Dolls, which has got to be one of the most Wincesty songs ever written. Ever.

A very special thank you to the lovely, talented, and extremely busy Soulful Sam for being my beta on this. I couldn't have done this without you! I did add a few things after she sent it back so any remaining mistakes, poor characterization, or just bad writing, are all my own. Thank you also to Nessaky and mjlove1 for all of your help, advice, and encouragement. *hugs*

**Disclaimer:** I TRIED TO BARGAIN BUT NO DEMON WOULD DEAL!

Dean squints through the raindrops that are spattering on his windshield, distorting his view of the road on this otherwise quiet night. It's been hours since they left the side of the road where Dean had decided to bare his soul like a freakin' girl to Sam. There were actual tears. Well, Sam better have gotten enough to last him for at least a year 'cause there's no damn way he's giving in to his emo brother's need to share anymore.

He glances over at Sam, slumped to the side of the door, where Dean's leather jacket is wedged between the window and his baby brother's freakishly huge head. Dean snorts in amused admiration at how peaceful Sam can look when he's asleep compared to the stubborn, in-your-face, emotionally exhausting, pain-in-the-ass he is when he's awake. Deep down, Dean knows he's really just pissed off about Sam's ability to break down his carefully and meticulously built walls that keep all that crap buried inside, where it belongs. He's not sure how Sam does it, how he's able to take a perfectly awesome zombie hunt and turn it into some horrible heart-to-heart that was too embarrassing to even show on Lifetime. Maybe it's his soulfully pleading eyes that Dean hasn't been able to resist since Sam was 2 years old. Perhaps it's the way Sam knows exactly what's going on with Dean, usually before Dean even knows what's going on with Dean. But really, if he's being honest with himself, Dean knows in his heart that it really comes down to the fact that he just can't help being totally and completely in love with his little brother, no matter how aggravating he can be. That thought alone should disturb Dean in more than a dozen ways, but all it really does is makes him realize that Sam can get him to do pretty much anything he wants. Anyway, it really doesn't matter why, because after today, he's done with the tear-filled confessions. He's Dean Winchester, dammit - badass hunter, killer of monsters, slayer of evil, hero of distressed damsels.

Sam's snuffling and shifting interrupt Dean's thoughts and he looks over to see his brother sit up sluggishly, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and rub at his eyes, hair sticking up everywhere. Sam peers over at Dean with half open, scrunched up eyes and a confused look on his face.

"D'n? Where're we?" Sam slurs through a big yawn.

"Somewhere in Oklahoma. Think I'll find us a place to crash in the next hole we come up on. How's your hand?"

"Hurts like a –agghhh…" Sam slams his eyes shut as he lifts his hand, trying to move his fingers and hissing at the effort. "It hurts like a bitch, man. I really think it's broken."

Dean winces. "So, a hole big enough to have a 24-hour clinic. Got it."

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"A few hours. S'been raining for the last two and it's starting to make my eyes cross. I'm so tired. I could probably sleep for a week. We don't have anywhere we need to be tomorrow, right?" He looks over and sees Sam staring at him, puppy eyes in full force. Dean chooses to ignore it and adds with a smirk, "A day or two in bed, huh, Sammy? Sound good?"

Sam's face tugs out a little smile that's about as real as a porn star's boobs, nods, clears his throat and looks down at his lap. Oh shit. Dean tenses up and waits for it.

"So Dean…"

"C'mon Sam…" Dean dramatically drops his head down on his chest and whines a little more desperately than he intended.

"What?"

"Just drop it, ok? I've said all I'm gonna say about it. I mean, God, haven't you heard enough? Even you must have limits."

Sam looks back at Dean and shakes his head. "Wow. I um…I was just gonna say that it's probably gonna be hard for me to hunt with a cast on my hand."

Oh. Well, come on. Dean can't really be blamed for assuming Sam wanted to play counselor. Hell, he's still not sure Sam's not going to. He grips the steering wheel in an effort to not say anything. He doesn't want to disturb the blissful silence in the car. Not surprisingly, Sam does it for him.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle it, though. We've been hurt worse before. Right? Dean?"

Dean clears his throat and answers. "What? Oh yeah. It'll be fine. Besides, we can always take a week or two off if you want. Go back to Bobby's maybe."

Sam sniffs. "Yeah, maybe. Or I thought maybe we could stop at the Roadhouse. See if Ellen or Ash have any new leads on the demon."

"Sam…"

"No, Dean. Look, I know you're hurting –"

"Oh god."

" – but maybe trying to find yellow eyes is exactly what you need right now – what we both need."

"I'll tell you what I need. I need for you to quit trying to head shrink me, alright?"

"I - "

"I mean it, Sam. Stop trying to fix me. I'm ok."

Sam lets out a long, weary sigh, bunches the leather jacket back up against the window and slumps his head against it. "Whatever. Just wake me up when we get to wherever it is we're going."

Dean grinds his teeth in anger. Damn it. He knows Sam means well but he's not like Sam. He doesn't do hand holding and crying on shoulders. Dean's used to pain. He's been living with it since he was four years old; it's nothing new. And he definitely doesn't want to talk about it. It's not like it helps. Although, it did feel kind of good to relieve the powder keg that's been inside him since his dad died. How the hell did his life get so fucked up in the last year? Considering the way his life was before, that's saying something.

"Know what else I need?" Dean grumbles to himself even though he's pretty sure Sam is still awake. "I need it to stop fucking raining for five fucking minutes!"

The wipers are going back and forth as fast as they can and they still aren't able to keep up. The last thing Dean needs is to crash his Baby so soon after he got her up and running again. He swerves over to take the next exit, follows the road for a few miles until he spots a field and pulls over and turns off the car. One peek at Sam tells him that he's either asleep or trying really hard to look that way. He stretches his arms up and behind him, as much as possible in the tight confines of the car. Then he reaches into the backseat, grabs the blankets that are crammed on the floor and covers Sam with one before covering himself with the other.

Resting his head back, he runs his hands down his face and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Shit." He's so tired but his brain just won't shut off or shut up for any reasonable amount of time. He can't stop thinking about Dad and the crap he unloaded on Dean right before he died. He keeps hearing it over and over. _"Something's happening with Sammy. I don't know exactly what. Do whatever it takes to save him, son, 'cause if you can't, you're gonna hafta kill him."_ Seriously, what the fuck? And on top of that, there's the crushing guilt he feels for not telling Sam the truth when he asked if Dad said anything before he died. The kid could barely get a sentence out, no way was Dean gonna dump this on him too. He can't repress a shudder at the image of tears pouring down his baby brother's face as they stood watching their father's body burn.

Dean was, and still is, so consumed with grief and guilt that he can barely think straight. He's pretty sure he's going insane. What the hell was his dad thinking? Kill Sam? Sam's all he has left; he's his entire world. Looking out for Sam, protecting him - that's what he'd been trained for. And if he can't do that…this is exactly why Dean knows he should've been the one who died, not Dad. Dad would know what to do. Because honestly, what Dean wants to do is take Sam and run as fast and as far away as he can. Screw this. Dean loves being a hunter, he really does, but lately it's all become way too personal. This shit with yellow eyes and Sam's psychic crap is just too much. He refuses to let anything happen to Sam and he sure as hell isn't going to kill him. He'd rather die first.

Dean looks over at Sam, wondering again if he's really sleeping. It doesn't matter how old Sam gets, when he's sleeping he's just Dean's baby brother. The two-year-old who would, upon waking up, raise his arms in the air for Dean to pick him up. The six-year-old who would look up at Dean with those big puppy eyes, chubby cheeks, and bottom lip sticking out just enough to make Dean give in and tell him one more story before sleep. The nine-year-old who had just found out that monsters really did exist and trusted Dean to protect him when he'd crawl into bed with him after having a nightmare. The twelve-year-old who would stay up late watching Twilight Zone marathons with Dean and fall asleep slumped up against Dean's side, half-empty bag of microwave popcorn on his lap. Without thinking about it, Dean reaches out to run his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair, before they gradually fall to his face, tracing his cheek bones, over his dimples and back and forth over his strong angled jawline, so much like their father's but yet still just like the teenager Sammy used to be before all this pain and death - back when their lives used to be so much easier. Dean just wishes he could fix everything - Dad dying, yellow eyes, everything - but he knows he can't. And the plans that yellow-eyed bastard has for his little brother...it's just way too important to screw it up. "Dammit, Sam, I just don't know what to do."

Sam lazily lifts his head from the window and shifts so he's facing Dean. "D'you say something? Where are we?" He asks, squinting out the window.

Dean pulls his hand back quickly and turns his head in the opposite direction, pretending to look out the window behind him, trying to go for subtle while wiping the traitorous tears from his own face. "I couldn't drive anymore. It's raining too hard. We'll take off as soon as it lets up, I promise."

Dean can feel Sam's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head so he turns back to face him. Their gazes meet and then Sam narrows his eyes. "Hey, you alright?"

Dean rolls his eyes a little, scootches down in his seat, and tucks his head into the blanket. "I'm fine, Sam. Goodnight."

"Oh c'mon, Dean, don't do that. No more talk about feelings. I promise. Just…c'mere."

"You're kidding, right? The sobfest today wasn't enough for you? Now you wanna snuggle?"

Sam doesn't answer. Instead he gives Dean a knowing look and lifts his blanket, gesturing for Dean to climb under it. Dean peeks over his blanket and raises an eyebrow at Sam in suspicion but shortens the distance between them by slowly sliding closer...inch by inch. "I'm not gonna bite, Dean."

Dean stops moving. "Then what's the point?"

"Hurry up, ya jerk, I'm getting cold."

"Alright, ya whiny bitch. Just don't expect me to sing you a lullaby."

Sam huffs. "Yeah, trust me Dean, I'm perfectly fine with that."

He finally crosses the entire distance of the seat and Sam draws him tightly into his chest and squeezes his arm around him. Dean lays his head on Sam's shoulder, rubbing his hand in slow circles on Sam's chest.

"Ya know, Dean, this is the best way to stay warm. There's nothing girly about it."

Dean scoffs. "Says you."

Sam chuckles and quickly drops a kiss to the top of Dean's head. As usual, Sam knows just what Dean needs, like he has an instruction manual on how Dean works. It's been a rough few months and if Dean needs to be close to Sam right now, no matter how much he protests, that's what Sam's going to give him. "You know we're going to be ok, right? I mean, we still have each other."

Dean looks wryly up at Sam, a slight smirk on his face. "Wow, Sam. That sounds dangerously close to discussing feelings."

Dean really, really doesn't want to talk about this, especially when they're this close and it's so dark and quiet, but for the rain and occasional rumble of thunder. If he starts talking, he may break down again. Except this time he might never stop.

Sam lets out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. I...just, you should get some sleep while you can. With my hand like this, I really shouldn't drive, so..."

Dean suddenly moves back from Sam. "Shit, Sam, I'm sorry. I forgot about your hand. Did I...?"

Sam smiles affectionately. "No, Dean, it's fine. Really. See? You weren't even touching it." Sam reassures him while lifting his hand that's casually laying on the armrest by the window.

Dean reluctantly moves back into Sam's arms, pulling the blanket back over them and nestling his head down on Sam's chest. He can hear Sam's heartbeat thumping strong and steady under his ear and the rise and fall of Sam's chest against his cheek. Dean loves that sound, that feeling. Sometimes it actually scares him how much he loves his brother. Because if anything ever happened to...no. Dean's not going there. Not right now. He's just going to revel in the feel of Sam all solid, warm, alive and wrapped around him. Dean can't remember the last time he felt this content, this safe. He's being held tightly by the two loves of his life, and in this very moment, it's easy to buy into the sense of security, false or not.

Absently rubbing his fingers back and forth on Sam's stomach, Dean thinks back to what Sam said to him yesterday_. "Dean, it's killing you. Please. We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica. And now I'm gonna lose you too?"_ Dean feels himself tensing up. It's true, they've lost so much and there's really not much left for them to lose. Suddenly, and not for the first time today, he feels like a selfish bastard. Of course Sam is just as afraid as he is. Dean is all he has left, too. He wasn't the only one who lost his dad. And Sam knows all too well that Yellow Eyes is gunning for him. He's got to be more than a little freaked. Yet here he is, taking care of Dean. As if Sam can hear his thoughts, his arm tightens around Dean and his left hand starts rubbing up and down Dean's back.

"Is that what it sounds like?"

Dean is startled by Sam's sudden words but doesn't respond more than a muffled "Hmmph?" against Sam's chest.

"When you say you can hear me thinking? That's what it sounds like, huh? 'Cause man, you might as well be using a bullhorn. No wonder you can't get any sleep."

Sam chuckles softly as Dean lifts his head from Sam's chest and looks him straight in the eyes. "We're not gonna lose each other. Ok? I promise you that."

Sam's face melts a little and his eyes start shimmering. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's just...I don't know, man. You were right. We have no room for error, nothing left to lose. We're it, ya know? You and me. I mean, I don't know what's gonna happen but I do know there's no way in hell I'm letting anything happen to you. Ok? Not ever."

Sam wiggles and shifts a little and Dean takes the hint, sits up, right leg bent underneath him and faces Sam. He grabs Sam's face in both hands and whispers, "You and me, Sam. You and me against the world, ok?"

Sam's head, still held securely in Dean's hands, nods up and down a few times, tears welling in his wide eyes as he covers one of his brother's hands with his own and says "Yeah. Of course, Dean. You and me."

Dean closes the distance between them and gently places a long, chaste but lingering kiss on Sam's mouth, closing his eyes and inhaling through his nose, fingers digging into Sam's hair. Dean loves him so much and yet, he really doesn't have to say it. Judging from the little whimpering sounds that Sam is making, Dean can tell Sam gets it anyway. He just knows. He's always known.

Sam opens his mouth slightly, forcing Dean's lips apart. It's slow and tentative, Sam's tongue lazily breaching his brother's lips, as Dean tilts his head to give them both a better angle, their tongues now softly meeting and tangling slowly. Sam lets out a slight groan before reaching up to lay his hands on Dean's back but suddenly breaks off the kiss with a slight hiss. "Dammit."

Dean pulls back in concern. "Sammy? What-"

"No, it's nothing. S'my stupid hand."

Dean grins sympathetically and moves closer again. "Here, hold on..." Despite the bench seat being pushed back as far as it can go, it's a tight squeeze but Dean manages to crouch down and kneel on the floor between Sam's legs that he's spreading further to give Dean more room. He leans himself over Sam's body and starts laying little kisses below his ear and down his neck before kissing and nibbling his way to Sam's lips. Sam's mouth is turned up into a blissful little smile and his left hand is tickling the back of Dean's neck. Dean stares into Sam's eyes for a few seconds, hands buried in his hair again, thumb caressing his cheek, before swooping in and devouring Sam's mouth. They both close their eyes instantly and it's not the first time that Dean is amazed by how well they fit together, like they were made for each other or something. Dean easily slides his tongue into Sam's mouth, swirling it all around, trying to swallow down every noise, every taste, every little gasp that Sam is offering. He could kiss Sam forever. Dean's pretty sure there's nothing better in the whole world. And that's only confirmed more when Sam starts making little muffled moans into Dean's mouth and grabs the back of his neck a little tighter.

Dean loves this part of Sam. The raw, passionate, sexual creature that Dean has always known was inside of him. Despite the occasional ribbing that's his duty as a big brother to dish out, he's always really loved how Sam puts so much feeling into everything he does, how he's so sincere and genuine with everybody he meets. And this, this is his favorite Sam. The whole Sam; the one that no one else gets to see. If he wasn't genetically wired against it, this Sam is exactly what could turn him into someone who sings sad love songs or something equally as embarrassing. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest but he's pretty sure he'd be ok with dying this way - Sam warm and strong, yet pliable underneath him, the tips of his fingers grappling and digging at the back of Dean's neck like he can't let go but isn't strong enough to latch on completely. He's moaning and humming while laying his head back against the headrest, allowing Dean to plunder his mouth, hips jerking upward slightly, as if they're seeking Dean out. This isn't something Dean planned or has even thought about for a while. Ever since Dad died, Dean just hasn't...no. There's nothing better at throwing ice on a steamy reconnection with Sam than thoughts of their dead father. This is only about Sam and Dean. It really has been a while, months probably, since they've been together, in any sexual capacity anyway, and Dean isn't about to ruin this moment.

Still biting and licking into each others' mouths, Dean grabs at the zipper on Sam's hoodie, pulls it open and starts running his hands all over his flannel covered chest, along his ribs, down the outside of his thighs and firmly gripping there. Sam squeezes his legs together, moving Dean even closer against him, all while grasping at Dean's back with his one hand. Dean feels dizzy from the lack of oxygen at this point but can't bring himself to stop kissing Sam. He's achingly hard and suddenly wishing they weren't stuck in the car in the middle of nowhere. He'd give anything to be in a crappy hotel room somewhere. He pulls away and mouths at Sam's chin and jaw while gulping in much needed air. "God, Sammy, I ca- can't get enough of you."

"Dean...I want..." But Dean bites Sam's bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it before letting go and laying his open mouth over Sam's again, essentially cutting his little brother off from saying whatever it is he was trying to say. Their tongues are pushing against each other, their teeth are occasionally knocking together, and it's so deep and passionate that Dean can feel it tingling in his toes. They take turns sucking and nibbling on each other's bottom lips and occasionally drawing the other's tongue into their mouth and almost trying to swallow it down. It's like they're attempting to crawl inside one another with their deep, unbridled, almost urgent kisses. Sam's hand leaves Dean's back before landing not so lightly on Dean's ass, grabbing and pushing on it, trying to cram Dean's pelvis right into his, as he rolls his hips upward to meet Dean. Dean can't help but gasp out a moan and gives into the pressure of Sam's hand by rocking his hips and thrusting right up against him. This could be it. Dean feels how hard Sam is every time they rub together and that along with all the grabbing, biting and kissing are conspiring to push Dean over the edge. He wants to feel Sam, be with him, taste him for hours and listen to him all night but if they keeping grinding into each other like this, it's going to be over way too fast. Dean pries their lips apart and Sam chases after him, not wanting to let go. Dean rests his forehead against Sam's while they're both breathing hot gusts of air into each others' faces, eyes closed, and attempting to calm themselves down, just for a minute. Heaving gasps and rain clapping on the metal roof of the car are the only sounds they can hear for a moment. Then Dean rasps out "Sam, I'm sorry. There's just not enough room for.."

Sam nods a little and croaks out between breaths, "S'okay Dean. Pretty sure the rain stabbing at us'd kill the mood if we tried to leave the front seat anyway. Just give me a minute, here, 'kay?"

After a minute of cooling down and their breathing slowing to a somewhat normal rate, Dean slowly moves his forehead off of Sam's and pushes small, wet kisses onto Sam's mouth. He hums a little and says in a soft voice just dripping in seduction, "Ya know, I said there's not room for everything, Sammy..." as he slowly drags his hand up from Sam's thigh, over his hip, across his stomach until reaching the button on his jeans and popping it open with one hand. "But I didn't say..." He reaches up to grab Sam's chin with the other hand while he slowly unzips Sam's jeans. "There wasn't..." He drops lazy but fast kisses on Sam's puffy, kiss-swollen lips between each word as he drawls, "room - for - anything." Sam's eyebrows completely disappear under his ridiculously floppy hair, his almond shaped eyes snap open wide, he draws in a shaky breath and his cheeks instantly flush. Dean rumbles out a low chuckle at the appearance of his little brother and then notices Sam's mouth hanging slightly open, lips all shiny from Dean's wet kisses. The sight is actually making Dean's mouth water. He just doesn't understand how it's possible to love someone so much that you literally, physically can't get enough of them.

"I swear Sammy, you are so fucking..." But Dean shakes his head in wonder and shoves his hand into Sam's boxers and wraps his fingers around the hot, throbbing, leaking cock he finds there. Sam slams his eyes closed and lets out a sinful sounding groan that makes Dean almost come right there. After a second of picturing old grandmas doing water aerobics, he feels he's safe for now and starts slowly stroking Sam's erection.

"No no no, Sammy. Eyes open. Eyes on me." Sam instantly pries open his eyes but they're hooded, glossy, and his pupils are completely blown. Dean leans up to kiss Sam again but this time, Sam beats him to it, as he grasps the back of Dean's head, latches onto his mouth and starts desperately kissing Dean as deeply as possible. His kisses are almost frantic and Dean feels his tongue all over in his mouth, jabbing like it's going to go clear down Dean's throat. Dean feels his own cock leaking with precome from Sam's attack on his mouth alone and really, he shouldn't be surprised. It seriously has been a while. Dean starts pumping Sam's length harder and faster and twisting exactly where and how he knows Sam likes it. Sam stops kissing Dean only long enough to let out more moans and maybe Dean's name once or twice before repeating the almost painful but oh so good nibbling and licking into Dean's mouth. Dean gives up fighting it and starts thrusting his hips against the seat between Sam's thighs, all the while keeping up the brutal pace on Sam's dick. Dean can feel the sweat pouring off of him as he pulls back only to kiss down the length of Sam's neck before burying his face there. The car is rocking from the force of them rutting against each other, Dean rocking between Sam's legs and Sam thrusting up into Dean's hand.

"God Dean, m'close." Sam grunts out between deep breaths. Dean lifts his face from Sam's neck and gazes at him for all of a second before ramming their mouths together again, deep, wet, but slower, as if he's trying to pour all of his love into Sam.

"Sammy..." Dean murmurs as Sam stops the kiss, their mouths still together, open and gasping. Dean feels Sam's cock leaking even more as he strokes faster and faster. When he rubs his thumb over the slit, slightly digging in, Dean notices Sam tensing up, letting out a low groan from deep in his chest. Dean pulls his head back far enough to watch Sam's face as his breath hitches, his forehead twists up and then relaxes, struggling to keep his eyes open and on his big brother as he breathes out "Dean" and spills hot and wet over Dean's still slowly pumping hand.

"God damn, little brother," Dean groans and he feels Sam release a little more over his hand before slumping forward to rest his forehead on Dean's shoulder.

"De-Dean,you..."

"Oh I know, Sammy. You don't have to say it."

"No, Dean. Here." Sam slurs as he limply tries grasping at Dean's waist.

"Yeah, that's ok, Sam. I'm good."

Sam lifts his head up at that and peers at Dean through slitted eyes, before realization hits him and he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"What? It's been weeks! Months even! And have you heard yourself? Seriously, Sam. We should really look into some kind of phone sex job for you. We could make some serious money!"

"Whatever, I don't make that much noise." Dean chuckles at Sam's embarrassed expression. Sam throws Dean one of his patented bitchfaces before tugging on Dean's shirt. "C'mere. Get off the floor."

Dean cringes a little at the stickiness in his pants as he climbs up on the seat. He takes his blanket and wipes his hand on it and then dabs at Sam's stomach and over-sensitive cock. He's rewarded with Sam shoving him away so he chuckles again and throws it in the backseat. "Make room." But Sam is already holding the blanket open for Dean to crawl under.

Dean snuggles up next to Sam and they shift around a little until they find comfortable positions. They're finally settled when Sam sniffs.

"Dean?"

"No."

"Shut up, you ass. I was just gonna say you stink like sex."

"And?"

Sam chuckles this time with a slight shake of his head. "And nothing."

Sam pulls Dean in a little tighter and Dean nuzzles into Sam's neck. He can't help it. Sam's always smelled really really good. He smells like home. Dean breathes in the scent and for the first time in a long time, he finally feels like he could actually sleep.

"Hey, it stopped raining." Sam whispers while shaking Dean a little. Dean looks up at Sam and silently pleads with him. "But we'll be ok here for a few hours so why don't you get some rest." A cocky smile spreads across Dean's face as he lays his head back down and burrows back into Sam's neck while Sam rubs his arm. Dean knows he's being a little clingy and thank god Sam's not calling him on it. There are a few advantages to caring and sharing, not that Dean will ever admit that out loud, especially not to Sam. The steady thrum of Sam's heartbeat and their evenly matched breathing almost lulls Dean into sleep when he feels Sam kiss the top of his head again before resting his cheek there.

"We've spent our whole lives taking care of each other. This isn't exactly new territory. It's just you and me, Dean. We're gonna be ok."

Dean doesn't say anything, he's not sure if Sam even knows he heard him. He asked Sam earlier what he could possibly say to make this all right. Because it wasn't all right. Not by a long shot. But right here, right now, inside the warmth and safety of his Baby, wrapped up with the one person he loves most in the world and hearing him say those things - it's about as close as it can get.


End file.
